‘Well?’ He stared across at her from the tug, clearly impatient for her to make up her mind. ‘What’s it to be? Marriage or jail? The choice is yours.’
Fury and fear warred for supremacy, making her limbs twitch so badly Ruby could barely keep still. Yet if she dashed off into the wide blue yonder, what good would that do her? He could have her brought back, as if she were an errant, foolish young bride. She belonged to him now, almost as if she were his property. Besides, where would she run to? She couldn’t return to the reformatory, since it was unlikely the Board of Guardians would allow her back in view of the fact they considered her well placed; a success story. More likely they’d send her to the workhouse, or, as they’d already threatened, to prison for inciting a riot. She’d also be adding absconding while out on licence to her crimes. Oh, she was in a right pickle.
Neither did Ruby have any wish to end up living rough on the streets where she’d no doubt either starve to death or be picked up again by the police; her only crime that of destitution. If only their Billy had never been bullied and they’d never run away from the unfeeling nuns and Ignatius House. If only their mam had never fallen ill. No, she’d been down that road once too often. She had to live with whatever cards life dealt her. Billy was in Canada. Pearl was confined in a padded cell, and Ruby herself must somehow survive until the day they could all be together again. Which meant exercising her wits, not giving way to self pity.
At the back of her mind, ideas and plans for this long dreamed of future began to take shape. Barthram Stobbs had said he might be prepared to offer Pearl a position. Perhaps, in time, she could hold him to that, with or without a house. In the meantime, some matters couldn’t be ignored and must be made clear from the start. Nor dare she risk doing anything which might spoil her chances. It was a fine line she must tread with care.
Ruby smiled at him, soft brown hair falling seductively over her cheeks as she gave a careless shrug, as if she’d had her say and was content to go along with his scheme. Her tone of voice was calm, even sweet, yet somehow uncompromising. ‘You lay one finger on me without my say so, wife or no, and I’ll kill you with my own fair hands. D’you hear me, Barthram Stobbs? I don’t care if I do swing for it, I’d see you dead first.’
A moment of thoughtful silence and then came that now familiar answering chuckle. ‘I knew I’d chosen well. Get on board. I’m a patient man, Ruby McBride. You’re young and I’m willing to wait to enjoy the fruits you have on offer, delectable though they undoubtedly are. In the interim, I shall make good use of your clever mind and fiery spirit. I’m hoping such an irresistible combination will make me a deal of money.’
Several hours, and numerous locks later they reached the Bridgewater Viaduct. Ruby was surprised by this. She’d expected them to head for the main docks where the big ships discharged their cargoes and took on fresh loads and supplies. Having tied up the tug for the night, Barthram explained to Ruby over a supper of pie and peas, how he was known locally as “the baron”. She assumed this was because of his superior skills as a carrier, transporting coal, cotton and other goods the length of the canal, often as far as Liverpool and back. He did not disabuse her of that assumption.
‘But you can call me Bart.’
Ruby couldn’t imagine ever being so familiar. ‘Right, Mr Stobbs,’ she said, with deliberate insolence.
He didn’t rise to her challenge, his smile mocking, eyes shrewdly assessing. ‘I have many attributes, which you’ll learn about all in good time. Perhaps you’ll warm to me, in the end.’
Despite a show of stubborn persistence on Ruby’s part, he refused, absolutely, to give any indication what these so-called attributes might be. Nor did he offer any further explanation of her duties, claiming there would be time enough the next day. ‘You can have a trial run. See how you shape up.’
‘Trial run? What sort of trial run?’
He stood up and wiped a dribble of gravy from his chin, a sardonic smile twisting full, sensual lips. ‘It’s time to turn in. When you’ve finished washing up, you can bunk down for’ard, where the cabin boy usually sleeps. As I said Ruby, I’m a patient man. The marriage will not be consummated until you’re good and ready.’
‘Which will be never.’
He gave a lazy smile. ‘I’m sure that after a good night’s rest, you’ll feel much more amenable in the morning.’
He then removed the check jacket and trousers and, standing before her in his long-johns, folded the suit with care and laid it away in a large battered trunk, together with the cravat, watch and chain, and the crisp white shirt. Finally, he removed a layer of padding from around his stomach, shedding years from his age in the process and becoming, upon the instant, a different man entirely. His body suddenly appeared lithe and lean and firmly muscled. He pulled on a silk dressing gown and tied the cord about his slim waist before giving her a wry, crooked smile and withdrawing to his spacious cabin aft. Ruby had watched the entire performance in enthralled silence, astonished and utterly captivated by the transformation.
Who and what was this man? He was her husband.
Lying in her cramped quarters, Ruby tried the word out in her mind, over and over, attempting to accustom herself to the unaccustomed sound of it as well as the reality. It all seemed unreal, as if this marriage had no connection with her. Again she considered making a run for it, even got so far as trying the door, only to find it locked and bolted. She was a prisoner, which made her feel sick with fear and filled her with a new surge of anger.
Ruby wondered if she would ever be free to make her own way in the world. Oh, but she meant to be one day, of that she would make certain. Then she’d do as she pleased. Wouldn’t she just!
But even if she had been able to escape tonight, where could she have gone? Who knew what terrors lurked in the shadows beneath the railway arches of Castlefield. The last time she’d been in this area was that fateful night when they’d been taken back into custody, just as if they were criminals.
In her head, Ruby could still hear the whistles and the shouts, smell the panic and the fear of the running boys, and feel Pearl and Billy’s shuddering sobs as the three of them were dragged apart. She could recall all too clearly the gnawing hunger of life on the streets, the bitter cold, the damp seeping into her bones, the constant fear of attack.
And the warm, exciting pressure of a young boy’s body as he consoled her for failing to survive without his help.
Chapter Nine
The next morning, when breakfast and chores were out of the way, Ruby was confronted with yet another Barthram Stobbs, one dressed in the uniform of a police constable on the beat. She blinked, startled by this unexpected sight. Despite smelling oddly of mothballs, he again looked completely different from the suave, lean man in the dressing gown of the night before, and remarkably convincing. Ruby recalled having glimpsed the brass buttons of uniforms and other items of apparel inside the chest, including a clerical collar. All of which seemed strange, and Ruby didn’t care to imagine how he had come by them.
She opened her mouth to ask why he was thus attired but, on seeing the harsh set of his jaw, thought better of it and closed it again. Ruby had already learned that Barthram Stobbs was not a man to cross.
He checked that all was secure on both tug and barges, no work having been done overnight on any of the vessels so far as she could tell. He then ushered her out on to the canal tow path and made them all secure.
‘Do as you’re told and you’ll come to no harm,’ he tartly informed her, reading the questions in her hazel-eyed gaze. Ruby could only hope this was true. She’d hardly slept a wink the night before, her mind turning over ways to get out of this muddle. No solution had presented itself but now, after seeing his box of tricks which looked for all the world like disguises, it didn’t take a genius to work out that whatever he was up to wasn’t within the law. After her time in the reformatory Ruby was left with the constant fear that the least step in the wrong direction and she could be sent do
wn for years, married or no.
Minutes later, they were just two anonymous faces in the lower reaches of Deansgate. Barthram Stobbs strolled the length of the street, making his leisurely way through the shoppers and then back again. Ruby trailed close behind as instructed. He made a most convincing police constable, even to giving directions when one woman stopped him to ask the way to somewhere, and picking up and dusting off a child who had fallen in the gutter. What would he do if there were a real emergency? she wondered, and almost wished one would occur, just to test him. However, all remained quiet and at length he drew her up a side street and told her to listen carefully to his instructions.
‘In a moment, I’m going to go into that pawnbroker’s shop over there to speak to the shopkeeper. I shall ask to check the large notes in his till or cash box, on the grounds that they might be counterfeit. Then I’ll insist that he accompany me to the local police station where the money, which I will carry for safe keeping in a special bag, will be checked and examined by experts.’
Ruby was staring at him, bemused. ‘You don’t imagine for one moment that he’ll just hand it over, do you?’
‘Oh, yes, he’ll hand it over all right. I shall offer him a reward for carrying out his civic duty. It’s a ploy which has always worked in the past, and I see no reason why it shouldn’t work today, so long as you play your part well.’
‘Me? No, I’ve already told you. I’m doing nothing. . .’ He didn’t even wait for her to finish speaking but pushed her back against the wall, one hand pressing down hard on her shoulder as if giving a troublemaker a good telling off. Many people glanced in their direction as they passed by, but everyone seemed perfectly satisfied that this was simply a police constable carrying out his duties.
‘When you see me come out with him and start to head off in that direction,’ he carefully pointed up the street with one finger, ‘you dash up, all in a state, and claim there’s a fracas going on in Whitworth Street, that somebody’s being attacked by rabble-rousers and a constable is needed right away. Do you understand? And do as I say?’
Ruby saw quite clearly now why he was called “ baron”. It was a fitting nickname for a clever and superior conman whose sole task in life was to separate people from their hard-earned money, no doubt with exemplary speed. Well, he wasn’t using her in his nasty little schemes. ‘Why would I?’
‘Because I insist upon it,’ he replied, giving his familiar, crooked smile. He could feel the skeletal thinness of the girl’s shoulder beneath his hand and even as he barked orders at her, Bart was mentally noting that she was in dire need of good food to put some flesh on her bones. ‘Don’t worry, he’ll not touch you. He’ll believe every word that falls from your sweet lips, because you’ll make sure that he does. Right?’
Ruby pressed her lips together in mute rebellion. ‘Do your worst, see if I care. You can’t hurt me any more than Sister Joseph did, or the flippin’ reformatory.’
‘Ah, so that’s the way of it, I see.’ He gripped her arm and gave her a little shake. ‘I should point out, Ruby McBride, that I have friends and contacts everywhere, even in reformatories. Your sister is still detained in one, I believe? And who knows what might happen to a young girl when she no longer has an older sister to protect her.’
Ruby felt all the blood and fury drain from her veins, leaving her weak with anguish. ‘You wouldn’t hurt our Pearl?’
He momentarily widened his eyes in a helpless sort of gesture. ‘You know, I’m very fond of young girls. Sugar and spice and all things nice. But my appetites are normal. I prefer my women to be willing and mature enough for loving. Some men’s tastes, however, are less orthodox. I’d hate to see any harm come to your Pearl, when she’ll soon be going out into the world. I wouldn’t recommend you do anything rash.’
He recognised naked fear in her lovely eyes and felt an inner loathing of himself that he must speak to her thus, yet she undoubtedly thrived on defiance, and he needed to be able to depend upon her complete obedience at all times or more lives would be in danger than one young girl’s. ‘Do we understand each other?’
Ruby longed to challenge his assumption that he could reach Pearl, wherever she might be, yet somehow didn’t quite dare. Even though he’d already shown himself to be an habitual liar, his tone had hardened, and she heard not a hint of compromise in it. In that moment she could only wish herself a thousand miles from this spot; that she could step on board one of the great vessels that came daily into the Ship Canal and disappear forever off the face of the earth, or at least from the clutches of Barthram Stobbs.
Perhaps it was this thought which put the idea in her head. Daring, risky, but one which might see her safely out of the country and on her way to finding Billy. It would be a laugh to play the baron at his own game but it would take careful planning, of that she was certain. Nothing could be done in a hurry as there was still Pearl to rescue from the reformatory. Ruby realised that she must learn to bite her tongue and do as he asked. For the moment at least. She must give the impression that all was well, that whatever he asked of her she was willing to go along with. ‘All right, all right. Keep your hair on. I’ll do it.’
His grip slackened and the chilly smile thawed slightly. ‘Good girl. All you have to do is hold your nerve, and carry out my instructions to the letter. Perfectly simple.’
It felt very far from simple so far as Ruby was concerned. Long before he’d entered the shop premises, she could feel her limbs start to shake. How she would ever manage to walk, let alone run, she didn’t care to consider. The wait, while he was in the shop talking to the proprietor, seemed endless, as if it would go on for ever, and she had a sudden urge to visit the lavatory. But how could she? He might walk out of the door at any minute.
And then there he was, with the shopkeeper in tow, the pair of them chatting in a friendly enough fashion.
For a moment she felt frozen to the spot, but Ruby had believed him when he said he could hurt Pearl. Barthram Stobbs was clearly a clever operator, of that there was no doubt. He’d not only fooled Miss Crombie, and herself, but also the Board of Guardians by winning over the Chairman of the Governors and trapping her into matrimony that was anything but holy. She began to run.
‘Help! Help! Police! Help!’ Somehow a torrent of nonsense about gangs and fights came bubbling out, perhaps dredged out of the banks of her memory.
‘My dear, my dear.’ In her nervousness she barely heard his next words so that he had to repeat them, urging her to be calm and explain where, exactly, these rabble-rousers were.
Ruby hadn’t the faintest idea. Everything he’d told her had gone from her head and she simply stared up at him, her mind numb, completely blank. Barthram Stobbs rested a hand on her shoulder, as a proper police constable might, and patted it gently.
‘Take your time, my dear. You’ve had a shock. Now, which street were you in when you saw this attack?’
‘Whitworth Street!’ The answer came out on a gasp and she knew it was the right one because one of his eyes flickered briefly into a wink. No one but herself would have noticed since he had bent down towards her, his face inches from her own and a mask of concern. Barthram turned to the pawnbroker beside him, and mildly suggested he go on ahead to the police station.
‘I shall join you there shortly, sir, the moment I have dealt with this poor little miss and her attackers.’
Amazingly, perhaps dazzled by Ruby’s beauty, the shopkeeper seemed quite happy to do so, making no protest as Barthram Stobbs, in his policeman’s guise, dashed off in the direction of Whitworth Street, hustling Ruby before him, the bag of notes still in his hand.
The moment they turned the corner he dived quickly down a back alley, under a railway bridge and through a maze of streets down by the River Medlock. Only when they were again at Castlefield in sight of the canal did he stop, lean back against a wall and start to laugh. ‘Which is the last that gullible fool will ever see of this particular constable!’
Ruby bent over and
vomited into the gutter.
Over the weeks and months following, Ruby discovered, to her great frustration that as Barthram Stobbs’s wife she was as powerless as she had ever been in the reformatory. He cared not one jot for her opinions, or her feelings, only for the state of his own finances. The money he had conned out of the pawnbroker he stashed away in a tin box, before hiding it in his cabin. The next evening he received several visitors, all rough-looking men, and Ruby watched through a crack in her door as he counted and shared out the notes between them.
‘What has that poor shopkeeper ever done to deserve being robbed?’ she asked him later, over supper.
‘One - he is very far from poor. Two - he’s a pawnbroker, not simply a shopkeeper. And three - not an honest one either. He thinks nothing of robbing folk blind of their last halfpenny should it suit him to do so. He had it coming to him. Shed no tears over the fellow, Ruby.’
She was, however, expected to shed many tears on numerous other occasions. He would have her wait by some fancy house or by the dock offices to waylay Ship Company officials after a board meeting, and claim to have been abandoned by a cruel uncle/husband/stepfather, without even the wherewithal to get home. It proved amazingly easy to persuade these toffs to part with tram or cab fare. Sometimes, if they got a good look at her lovely face, they’d toss her half a crown and ask if she had any more favours on offer, at which point Ruby found it more prudent to dissolve into further tears than to stalk off in high dudgeon. Seeing her distress left them riddled with guilt at the improper suggestion they’d made, and they might well add another half crown to go with the first.
‘It’s all down to those wistful hazel eyes of yours,’ Barthram would say as he pocketed the cash.
Ruby McBride Page 9
